


Vampires & Werewolves in London

by ValentineRevenge



Category: Black Veil Brides, Blood On The Dance Floor, Escape the Fate, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gen, Horror, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRevenge/pseuds/ValentineRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mythical creatures exist, but war has been declared against them in the Victorian era. Can they put aside their differences to fight, or will they simply fade away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cold and stormy September night. The rain poured down in heavy sheets, making it difficult to see things that were more than a few feet away. The streets were covered In standing water, the gutters overflowing. A single step would have caused your shoe to fill up with water. The sidewalks were soon to be covered in water, the same as the streets. If you take a single whiff of the air, your nostrils would be invaded by a horrific stench.  
  
What is this scent, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. It is the filth and grime from the gutters, being washed up by the sudden rains. It is the stench of rotting foods that have been thrown into the streets for the mongrels and stray dogs. The disgusting scents of humans who do not have a way to dispose of their wastes properly. No sewage systems here, you see. No garbage pick-ups either.  
  
This place must be hell you remark. In a sense, it is, yet is not. To the ones who can afford to live in better places than this, it is not. To the ones who cannot afford to live in anything but this place, and here only just barely, it is. However, to these people, besides it being a perpetual hell, it is also their everyday life. And do not be so quick to pass judgment, as there are far worse places to live than this. Much worse.   
  
If you are still wondering just where we are, wonder no more my dear. We are currently standing in the middle of a street in one of the middle to lower-class areas. This street, and the ones around it, are mostly filled with the shops and markets that provide everyone with what they need. Thereof, the stench is not as bad as it could possibly be. Welcome to Victorian era London.  
  
Overhead, lightening flashes and thunder rumbles. It'll be a bad storm, alright. And the worst of it hasn't even begun. No, it'll start sometime later, in the middle of the night sometime. But it is already the middle of the night, you protest. Looking at you, I laugh. You are very strange, thinking that it is the middle of the night. It is barely 8 P.M.! Looks darker than that though, right?  
  
And that provides the perfect cover for what is going to happen tonight. Yes, what happens tonight could very well change the future as we know it. And it all starts here, on this very street. Look down the road, about midway. Do you see that shop? No, not the medicine-woman's shop. The one right next to it.   
  
Yes, that one. The one with the mostly dark windows, and the bizarre sign on the outside. The one with the pentagram and the runes on it. A strange little shop it looks like. But even when the others have closed for the night, there is still light coming from within the shop. It looks as though someone is trying to keep their after-hours dealings a secret.  
  
A sudden gust of wind makes the rain change it's direction, to come back and hit us straight in the face, ignorant of the hats we wear to try to keep the rain from soaking us to the bone. It catches the sign as well, making it flap wildly, creaking and screeching like an old woman. Unholy thing, isn't it? It's the only sign on this street to act like that. Rather frightening thing it is too.   
  
If there is some reason to be afraid tonight, this is it. There's a good reason to be afraid tonight. This shop and what's about to happen in it is just one of the many reasons. If you're scared, and want to turn back and go home now, by all means, do so. I won't stop you. Leave whenever you want. But if you leave, I must warn you, do be careful. There's a serial killer on the loose.


	2. Chapter 2

Down the street, there can be heard the noise of a large, horse-drawn coach coming closer. The hoof-beats are muffled by the water on the ground, yet the noise of the splashing from the horses and vehicle more than compensate for it. There is nearly 3 inches of standing water on the ground. The horses must be having a difficult time with getting this vehicle here. They sound like they are moving as swiftly as possible, despite the weather.  
  
Whoever it is, they must be very important, or have something of life or death matter to attend to, in order to be out and about in this weather, especially going that fast. It was something that was undeniable about the situation. If the person has the nerve to go this fast in this weather, it must be important.   
  
Within moments, the coach comes into view, drawn by 2 horses. They are entirely black, with the exception of white marks. These seem to be the only way to tell between them. One has a white face, while the other has the lower portions of its legs in white. The coach itself is plain black, the metal pieces shining dully. It was well-kept, and neat, though simple.  
  
The coach has barely stopped, when a the door opens, and a man jumps out, landing on the pavement. He shuts the door and waves the driver off. The driver speeds off somewhere else. He knows that he will not be needed again till sunrise, nearly 12 hours from now.  
  
The man who has jumped out of the coach is an odd sight. His hair and hat obscure much of his face. Even though it is night, he wears sunglasses, a tint so dark they appear black. From what we can see of his face, he appears to be dark-skinned. Something rarely seen, if at all, in London at these times.  
  
He strolled right into the shop. The door was unlocked, despite the fact that they were subject to crime at any time, and the serial killer on the loose. The proprietor of this shop obviously wasn't concerned. Either that, or he just wasn't afraid of the threats of danger out there.  
  
Inside the shop, the lamps and candles that had cast a barely noticeable glow outside shone brightly enough to make everything a stark contrast. It was like day and night. Now, the man who had entered the shop was glad of his sunglasses.   
  
Inside, behind a counter, and perched upon a high stool, there sat a young man. Even sitting as he was, it was easy to tell that he was tall. His messy sandy brown hair stuck up at odd angles. The reason for this was obvious, as he raked his hand through his hair in his frustration as he scribbled something in his ledger.  
  
The man who had entered the shop picked up a name plaque that sat on the counter. _Michael James Way_ it read. Just then, the man who sat on the stool looked up. “Slash. How pleasant to see you.” he said. The man, undoubtedly Slash, replaced the plaque with a slightly guilty look, and said, “Goodnight, Mikey.” He tipped his hat in a polite gesture. It the process, he managed to splash water over everything.   
  
Everything about him was soaked, even though he had only been in the rain for the briefest of moments. His coat and hat dripped water, his glasses had beads of water on them, and droplets of water stuck to his mass of curly hair.  
  
Mikey fought to keep from laughing, and to keep the disapproving look on his face. It didn't work, because a moment later, he smirked. Shaking his head slightly, he grabbed up a rag and blotted his ledger lightly, soaking up the water that had splashed there and threatened to smudge his work. “You're the first one here anyways. Go downstairs, and make yourself at home.” Mikey said, flipping back a few pages in his ledger and making a check mark.   
  
Slash nodded, reaching up just in time to catch a towel aimed at his head by Mikey. When he looked at the skinny boy in question, the only response he got was, “For the love of everything holy, don't just drip water over everything in sight!”  
  
Slash rolled his eyes behind his glasses, before continuing down the stairs with his towel. Mikey sighed, before looking at the time. Not even 10 past 8. Then, he looked down at his ledger, where he had made the tick mark. The sight was enough to make him want to scream and rip his hair out.  
  
Instead,he settled for a slight squacking noise, before whapping his head against the ledger a few times. “Trying to beat your brains out against your records Mikey? Really?” a soft, velvety voice asked. The only response Mikey gave was to yank off one shoe and throw it at the voice. A soft thump, and a chuckle later told him that the shoe had been caught, and hadn't done any damage.  
  
“Throwing shoes isn't polite.” The voice said, before the shoe was set down mere inches from Mikey's nose. “Damn you Gerard.” Mikey snapped, sitting up and attempting to put his shoe on again. Gerard just smiled from where he stood, as though he found it amusing. His younger brother was really a pain in the arse when he wanted to be.  
  
“Hey, we're both already damned, not that it makes much of a difference. So I don't know what damning me again is going to do.” Gerard said with a shrug, strolling across to the stairs that lead up to the next level. “Well then, double-damn you!” Mikey said, flustered. Gerard laughed again as he plopped himself onto the stairs, and took his sketchbook out of where it resided in his pack.  
  
Opening the bottle of ink he fished out from his bag, he grabbed a pen, and started to draw. Mikey let out a sigh of relief. If it kept Gerard occupied, he was okay with it. He continued to write in his ledger. Outside, another coach pulled up. Where the prior coach had been simple, this one was absolutely shocking in it's outlandishness. It simply begged for attention. And attention it received, as it looked so bizarre.  
  
The outside of the coach was hot pink. The curtains were a light pink, embroidered in lace. Where as the prior coach had been drawn by two black horses, this one was drawn by four solid white horses, with pink feathers on the tops of their bridles, similar to those of circus horses. The horses trappings were exquisite, free from crease or blemish. The majesty of the coach extended to the coach-man, who wore an embroidered cloak. It was apparent that the owner of the coach did not want to look bad. Trashy was a different story.  
  
Upon getting an eyeful of the coach outside, Gerard groaned. “Fuck no! Here it comes again!” he whined loudly. Mikey shushed him, muttering, “Don't you even dare go there again. A city divided against itself cannot stand.”   
  
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Gerard asked, obviously in a bad mood. “Means that there's too few non-humans, even in this city, for them to be at war with each other. Why else do you think the vampires stopped fighting with the werewolves? They realized that it was useless to fight with them, because in the end, there wouldn't be any of them left!” Mikey practically yelled, readying himself for throwing his shoe again.  
  
The door opened again with a tinkling noise from the bell affixed above the door. It was obviously The person who owned the ridiculous coach that had been spotted mere moments before. A woman entered, wearing a large, complicated dress. Hoop skirts, multiple petticoats, and more were included in this ensemble.   
  
Her hair was dyed a bright shade of pink, nearly garish to look at. Her make-up was overdone, giving the impression of a prostitute. The scent of cotton candy and vanilla followed her into the shop. Behind her trailed an androgynous youth, who didn't look a day over 21.  
  
Mikey ticked a single name off the list, before flipping forward a page, and writing something down. “I see that you've brought everyone this time.” he said, halfway joking. “Yeah. Any reason I shouldn't bring my bitch?” the woman asked. But the voice was not that of a woman. Instead, it was a man's voice. She was not a she. She was a he. A transvestite.  
  
“No, there's no reason why. Just keep a close eye on him. No telling what's going to happen tonight” Mikey said with a shrug. “So where's everyone else?” The transvestite asked. Mikey pointed at the stairs that lead down to the basement silently. The transvestite smirked, then nodded, walking towards the stairs, before continuing down them. The human pet followed a few steps behind.   
  
In reality, a human pet would be the best thing to call the person who'd followed the tranny down the stairs. The thing was, most of the human pets were not adverse to their condition. In fact, they rather preferred it, knowing that when things got hectic, they may very well be the only ones who were surviving human-wise.  
  
Several minutes after the duet had left the ground-floor, another coach pulled up in front of the shop. Nearly 20 past 8, and things were finally getting a move on. The powder-blue door of the coach opened, and two men stepped out. They were fairly tall, and they looked like something that you didn't want to run into while walking down a dark alley.  
  
They entered the shop quietly. Mikey looked up and said, “Goodnight, Jade, Davey.” Jade bowed in a Chinese manner, saying, “Konnichiwa!” Davey rolled his eyes, whacking his companion over the head, before replying, “Goonight, Mikey. Please ignore this pain in my neck.” Jade gave him a look that would have surely made someone wilt. Davey ignored this, and then said, “Everyone's downstairs, right?” Mikey nodded.   
  
“Well then I'll be seeing you in a few.” Davey said, walking towards the stairs. “Sayanora!” Jade yelled, skipping down the stairs. Gerard and Mikey just stared at the retreating back in confusion. Then, they looked up, meeting each other's eyes. With the kind of act that can only be performed by siblings or best friends, they shrugged. Alls well that ends well. Mikey looked down at his list and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"Think everyone is going to show up by midnight?" Mikey asked. "Huh? Maybe." Gerard replied, not caring enough to glance up from his drawing. "They fucking better..." Mikey snarled, grabbing his pen so hard it nearly snapped in half. "Mikes?"  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Calm your nipples."  
  
"Excuse you?"  
  
"Chill the fuck out, bro."  
  
"Whatever!"  
  
The brotherly argument was promptly interrupted by the sound of another carriage pulling up in front of the store.  
  
The door opened, and 5 people strolled in, single file. One of them was currently complaining, while the remaining 4 were silent as a grave. Mikey stood there, waiting for the complaining young man to finish. "Oh, you're waiting for me to shut up, aren't ya?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Shutting up."  
  
"For now." Another man's voice said.   
  
There was a moment of silence, before Mikey squealed, "Oh my gosh! Sandra!" and attacking the smaller woman in a huge hug. Sandra hugged back, bemusedly. "Hey there, Andy!" Gerard said, snapping his sketchpad shut with a grin, and standing up. "Hey there to you, too, Gerard." Andy said, a half-smirk crossing his face as he gave the other man a hug.   
  
"Why the hell are you hugging Andy and not me?!?" Ashley snapped, crossing his arms and pouting. "Shaddap!" Gerard said, before finally letting go of the other, only to be attacked by the bassist in a tight hug.   
  
"My ribs!"   
  
"Dude, how've you been?" Jake asked Mikey as the two shared a hug. "Getting the shit bugged out of me by Gerard, you?"   
  
Jake laughed. "Could've been worse, right?"  
  
"True that."   
  
Meanwhile, Gerard was struggling, trying to shove Ashley off him, but was unable to do so. "Get off!"  
  
"No! You smell good!" Ashley yelled, squeezing Gerard tighter. "My spleen!"  
  
"Yo!" Mikey said, giving Jinxx a hi-five. "Why no hug?"   
  
"You fuckin' stink, man. No offense, but you do."   
  
"It's true!" Andy said with a sad nod, Sandra copying his motions.   
  
"Come on, share Gerard." Sandra said, gently prying one of the bassist's arms off the raven-haired man. "Don't wanna!"  
  
"You can hug Mikey if you want."  
  
"Oh my gosh, yay!" Ashley promptly let go of Gerard, only to attach himself to the younger Way. "Don't worry, he's always like that. Sorry for your ribs and spleen though." Sandra said, giving a light hug to Gerard, which he returned, grateful for the short drummer's intervention, which saved his liver and kidneys, and other vital organs. "Meh, it's okay, thanks for getting him off me though."   
  
"No problem."   
  
The moment that Sandra had let go of him, Jake was nearly all over him. "Yeah, don't worry about him, that's typical."   
  
"Okay..." Gerard said, bemused as Jake wandered downstairs. Sandra followed him. In the meantime, Andy had managed to pry Ashley off Mikey, giving the poor, skinny Way brother a hug and an apology for the nearly broken ribs. "Go with Sandra." Andy said, shoving Purdy towards the stairs. He did, after flipping off the other.   
  
Jinxx gave Gerard a quick hug, before following his bandmate down the stairs. Mikey promptly lit incense. "Thanks, Mikes."   
  
"No problem."  
  
"Eh, the stink's in his bones, man. No matter how many showers he has, or how much cologne he wears, he still fucking stinks." Andy said, with a shrug, grabbing a seat on one of the nearby tables.

"Do you really have to sit on the table, Andy?" Mikey asked, shooting a glare at the vocalist, who was making himself quite comfortable. "Yus." Andy said, grinning to himself.   
  
"But the thing is, there's a chair right there!" Mikey said, gesturing at the piece of furniture. "Maybe the table is more comfortable... I sit on the stairs even though I can go sit in any chair I want to." Gerard said with a shrug, looking a his brother. "So? People actually use that table! What if someone uses it for their lunch?"  
  
"So?" Both vocalists asked simultaneously.   
  
"It's unsanitary!"  
  
"I'm not Jinxx, my ass doesn't stink, and I actually shower every day."  
  
"I don't care! Get your ass off my table!"  
  
"Pffft..." Andy snorted, looking at the older man in amused disbelief. Surely Mikey wasn't expecting him to actually do it! **(A/N: Mikey actually IS older than Andy, by almost, if not more than, 9 or 10 years)**  
  
"Off!"  
  
"Uh, no , sweetie, my ass is perfectly comfortable where it is."  
  
"Well mine isn't!"   
  
There was a tense moment of silence, before, "What the hell?" Gerard asked, letting out a giggle. Andy only rolled his eyes to the comment.   
  
"I...well... That didn't come out the right way!" Mikey spluttered. "Course it didn't. I mean, you just got so distracted by my gorgeousness...." Andy said, waving it away.   
  
"Yeah!" Mikey said, thankful that he was offered a viable excuse. "I mean, you know that I'm fucking sexy." Andy continued.   
  
"Yep!"  
  
"You know you want me..."  
  
"Yes I d-wait, what?" Mikey asked, eyes growing wide behind his glasses as his face formed into a scandalized expression. "Ha! Got ya!" Gerard yelled, laughing like an insane motherfucker. Andy laughed along with him.   
  
"What the hell?!?"   
  
In between gasps for air and giggles, Andy managed to choke out, "You don't have to hide it from us."  
  
"Hide what?" Mikey snarled, putting a hand on his hip.   
  
"The fact that you probably want Andy... Yes, in that way." Gerard said, catching the expression on the brunette's face. "I do _not_!"  
  
"Yeah, right, that's why you tried to ask me out." Andy smirked.   
  
"First off, I asked you if you wanted to go get a drink or a cup of tea! And even if somehow I managed to confuse you with a woman, t was because it was dark! And you look kinda girly!"  
  
 **(A/N: First time I saw the cover of Set The World On Fire I thought that Andy and Ashley were grls because of all the makeup and their hair... I still kept insisting they (especially Andy) were female because of appearances... My friend almost whacked me for it.)**  
  
Now, both singers were laughing so hard they nearly fell off their respective seats. "Shut UP! There's nothing wrong with asking a person to go for tea!" Mikey screeched, hands tugging at his overly straightened hair. The other two only laughed harder. "Right?" He asked, in confusion. "Oh my god, I'm gonna piss my fuckin' pants if ya keep this shit up!" Gerard snorted.   
  
Then, Jake came up from below the store. "We can hear you guys al the way downstairs, everything ok?" He asked, eyeing the two laughing men. "N-No!" Andy yelped, falling off the edge of the table.   
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Mikey thinks I'm a girl and he's desperately in love with me!" Andy squealed, rolling around on the floor laughing like he was having an epileptic fit.   
  
"Oh god, that's fuckin' priceless!" Jake said, before he too, broke out into the insane laughs.


	3. Chapter 3

Since after that, Mikey had beat a quick retreat upstairs somewhere, Gerard and Andy were left alone. "Hey Gerard?" Andy asked quietly after there was several minutes of silence. "Hmm?" Gerard asked, glancing up at the younger singer. "You do know that the humans are probably catching onto us right?" he asked, sounding unsure, almost like a child. "But I thought that we were pretty well covered? I mean, there's a fuckload less superstitions like vampires and shit floating around than there was a few centuries or even decades ago." Gerard replied.   
  
"Not as much as you might think, Gee." Andy said. He sounded sad about it. After he didn't say anything else for several minutes, Gerard asked, "What happened?" Now, Andy looked like he might start crying any minute. "You remember that fucker Pan right?"   
  
"Yeah sadly." Gerard said, shoving his hair out of his face. Not that it really worked, considering most of the hair that was moved took up residence in the singer's face once again within the next 5 minutes. "Well you remember that he was kinda like one of us for a while, right?" Andy said, sounding even more like a young child.  
  
"He was a fuckin' disgrace, but go on." Gerard said. The fucker in question had been a sort of empath, but considering the fact that empaths weren't exactly normal, they were welcomed with open arms by the group that was currently assembling themselves in the basement. And to top it off, said fucker was a horrible empath. They were able to feel the pain of others, and sometimes take it away, sometimes redistributing it, but this particular fucker decided to use it to harm the same people that had welcomed him with open arms, mainly Andy.  
  
"Well..." Andy said, before choking up, letting out a strangled sob. "Hey, no reason to cry." Gerard said, standing up and walking over to the younger male, patting him on the back. "There is!" Andy wailed, suddenly clinging to Gerard like his very fucking life depended on it. "Why?" Gerard asked, absent-mindedly rubbing the other's back.   
  
"H-he fucking went around t-telling people about us, Gee! A-and-" here, he broke off into more sobs, burying his head in Gerard's chest. "It's gonna be ok, I promise..." Gerard said, but was interrupted by, "No, it isn't! He has fucking proof! And now, they're coming after all of us, especially me!"

After a while of him crying, Andy managed to get himself under control, even though he was still clinging to Gerard. Now the older man realized just why this meeting was being called. The entire mythical population of London, and possibly Europe, and maybe even the entire world was being threatened here! Pan was a danger to all of them, because once the government, corrupt as it was, caught sight of one mythic, or even actually caught one, they'd go to any lengths to catch the rest, and try to keep them locked away, if not perform sick experiments on them.   
  
“Come on, your warpaint's all runny.” Gerard said, patting Andy on the shoulder.   
  
“How bad?”  
  
“Horrible. Go upstairs and fix it, ok?”  
  
Standing on shaky legs, Andy made his way upstairs, leaving Gerard alone in the store. No sooner than he had left than more people were walking in. Way looked up just in time to see Hunter Burgan, Adam Carson, and Christian Coma stroll in, slightly soaked around the edges. “Adam, Hunter, and Chuppy!” Gerard said, faking a smile. They returned the gesture and Gerard took the opportunity to usher them downstairs. With them now downstairs, it was near silence in the store.   
  
Several minutes later, Andy came down, his boots clumping on each step. Most of his makeup was still intact, with the running bits washed away. “Better?” Gerard asked him. Below the badass exterior, Andy was quite a bit like Mikey, soft and too innocent for his own good. As such, Gerard took it upon himself to watch over the younger man and take care of him.   
  
Andy nodded, before slumping into a chair weakly. He was shaky and several shades paler than his usual whiter than a hobbits ass color. “Just chill ok?” Gerard said, before adding in a softer voice, “It's gonna be ok, promise.” He noticed that the icy blue eyes were unfocused. Before he could do anything, the door flew open.  
  
“What's good, bitches?” Matt Good yelled as he crashed in. From behind him, Ronnie Radke could be heard saying “Move it whore!” Finally, the two fell to the floor, having been shoved in by Max Green. “Come on guys!” Gerard yelled. He was already on edge because of Andy and now this! “Someone didn't get any.” Matt grumbled from below Ronnie. Gerard was tempted to flip him off.   
  
Finally, Ronnie managed to disentangle himself from the pile of men and said, “Andy!” walking forward with one hand held high no doubt for a stupid handshake, and an equally stupid looking grin on his face. However, when he got closer, he could see the glazed look to Andy's eyes. The grin faded and Ronnie's hand went down. “You ok?” He asked. During the sudden hush, Max and Matt finally plucked themselves off the floor. Coming over, Matt asked, “What happened?” With a strange sort of reverence.  
  
“He was telling me about that fucker Pan and explaining the reason this meetings called, then he started crying. He went upstairs to wash away his fucked up makeup and when he came back he was like this.” Gerard said.   
  
“Damnit.” Matt snarled. “I'll kill that fucker with my bare hands!” Ronnie yelled. “I'll help.” Green offered. “Don't.” someone gasped. “Huh?” Everyone turned to look at Andy. He was looking at Ronnie, eyes barely focused, but just enough, looking similar to those of a deer in the headlights. “Don't do it... They'll get you...” He mumbled, reaching out and grabbing Ronnie's hand. 

 


End file.
